Wiederholen
by calsicle
Summary: Slaine wished he hadn't killed Orange. . . . . Thus a time loop was created.


Slaine's eyes were burning with repugnance as he aimed the gun to the Count in front of him, pulling the trigger numerous times, aiming randomly as he screamed from the top of his lungs. Tears trickled down the blond's cheeks and to the ground, pouring down like rain as he felt his chest aching.

 _Click_.

"Huh?"

Slaine pulled the trigger once again; confusion and rage filled his countenance.

 _Click_.

The blond gritted his teeth, mentally cursing upon realizing the fact that the bullet ran out. Though he could've just reloaded it―he just couldn't make himself to do it. Too many bullets were stuck inside Count Saazbaum's body, but his eyes were still open, though barely. His clothes were full of bloodstains, and blood oozed down from the Martian's forehead. With an unreadable expression carved upon the Martian's features along with his signature smirk, he pointed his finger to his head.

Slaine knew what that gesture meant. Once again, he raised his arms and aimed the gun to the Martian's head, but no matter how much the blond hated him after he sent a bullet through the princess' head, the Terran just couldn't make himself to pull the trigger.

Putting his hands down, Slaine dropped his head. Hopelessness and despair filled the blond's chest, and as if they were chains, they bound his heart up, tightening it up until an acute and agonizing pain was sent throughout his body.

Through teary orbs, the child of Dr. Troyard's eyes shifted upon seeing movements caught from his peripheral vision. Slaine gazed past his shoulder without turning his whole limbs, and found Orange―the pilot of that orange Kataphrakt―was using all of his remaining energy to crawl toward the Princess, whose life was already taken away by the dead Martian.

Vexation built itself up inside him upon seeing the scene that took place right in front of his eyes. He watched as Orange still moved forward without stopping or hesitating. He didn't even look reluctant at all. Slaine's eyes narrowed, and without thinking anything much further, Slaine strode toward the brunette Terran as the former raised the gun, reloading it.

Then he put the gun just behind Orange's head.

"Don't," he spoke. "That is far enough," Slaine's attempt to speak calmly had succeeded. His tone made his voice sounded so extraneous to him. "Do not touch Her Highness ..." Slaine spoke, his words were left hanging in the air. But he continued, putting pressure in the next word he is going to say.

"... Orange."

He thought he was imagining when he heard Orange's stifled laughter, but knew that it wasn't an imagination as soon as the brunette Terran turned his head around, a mischievous smirk was seen upon his countenance.

"... Bat."

Before he knew it, Slaine had found himself being aimed with Orange's gun. He studied the other male's mien―although there was no hostility written on it, Slaine knew that the guy in front of him was also trying to kill him.

"You are my enemy."

Those four words rang inside Slaine's head, and as though they were hypnotizing him, he pulled the trigger.

The blond sat at the edge of his tidy bed, which is most likely going to be messy soon, with his feet tangled around the blanket.

Slaine gripped onto his head tightly, digging his temples with his sharp-edged nails. It barely hurt, since the blond's mind was elsewhere, thinking about something else. Slaine could feel his heart and his veins beating.

"... Tsk," he clicked his tongue. The Terran intertwined his hands and fingers as he supported his head using his hands, which arms were supported by his thighs. He felt his chest heaved as he sucked in lungfuls of oxygen through his mouth.

Slaine had regretted his actions he did that day. He truly did. He had realized he made too many mistakes on that day, and he truly, truly rued his actions. He was ashamed of his mistakes. If Orange was here, maybe he would laugh at Slaine.

He should've finished Count Saazbaum on that day. He should've shot his head. And instead, he shot Orange, whom actually did nothing wrong. Orange even protected the Princess when she was on Earth―when Slaine wasn't there for her.

The one who was wrong was Slaine, and he knew that. He understood that.

"Her Highness must have been disappointed in me."

Taking another breath, Slaine lain on the bed, his palm resting on top of his forehead, straining some of his room's lit lamp, which was illuminating the whole room. He did not have the intention of turning it off.

"... I wish I hadn't done that ..." Slaine muttered, before his conscious began to drift off.

Slaine had found himself standing behind Orange, his gun's mouth against the back of the brunette Terran's head. The blond had left Saazbaum alive behind them, watching the whole scene, probably with an amused expression, considering how the Martian's personality actually is.

Slaine's forefinger was, of course, not itching to pull the trigger. In fact, he had no intention of killing the Terran before him. He had hostility―until the brunette suddenly pulled his own gun, training it right at the blond's head.

Maybe it had been instinct that driven him to pull the trigger.

Maybe it had been hatred or jealousy that driven him to pull the trigger.

Maybe it had been the fact that Slaine still priorities his life more than the lifeless Terran before him that driven him to pull the trigger.

Either way, Slaine Troyard regretted it.

A few hours had passed since the horrendous event that occurred, but to Slaine, it felt like it just happened a few minutes ago. He could still picture an image of Orange. A hole appeared on his temple, blood splashing as soon as Slaine pulled the trigger.

The blond shook his head. He needed to remove the gruesome image out of his mind soon, or it'll stick in his memory like glue for eternity.

Slaine allowed his body to rest on the bed, the blank white blanket coating his whole body to protect him from imaginary monsters.

Closing his eyelids didn't help either. The atrocious images would always made their way into his mind, no matter what he did to keep them away. He'd tried to empty his head, but he was not able to.

Probably an hour passed since Slaine had lain himself on his bed, but he just couldn't make it to dreamland. Those images were haunting him, and if this goes on, they probably would haunt him until hell freezes.

The blond cursed under his breath.

"I wish I hadn't done that ..."

And after that sentence escaped his lips, it was left hanging in the air, and a sudden feeling of déjà vu had him unconscious, drifting the blond to sleep.

Before he knew it, Slaine had found himself laying on his bed, the gruesome image of the lifeless body of Her Highness on the ground with a pool of blood surrounding her, and much more worse, the picture of his head getting knocked off by the bullet that came out from Slaine's gun, blood spurting out from the hole.

The blond hissed, wincing at the memory.  
The image of the lifeless Orange was so clear, as if he had seen it too many times until it got stuck inside his head, plastered and glued into the deepest part of his memory until it couldn't be forgotten.

Slaine shook his head, trying to shake off the image from his head. He tried to close his eyes, but even though he had been closing them for one hour, his brain just wouldn't rest. The image of the bloody Orange would appear behind his closed eyelids, making them snap open.

"I wish I hadn't killed him..." The words left his mouth, and was left hanging in the air.

Something hit the back of his mind.

Something, though he wasn't sure what it was. It was so familiar, yet unfamiliar. He felt like as if he knew what it was, but even though the answer was at the end of his mind, he couldn't recall what it was.

"...Hell."

Was the word that Slaine uttered when he gave up on recalling the feeling. He tossed his body to the right, making him face the flat surface of the wall. And closed his eyes.  
And waited. Waited until his consciousness began to drift off, until he entered the dreamland, until Slaine's agitated mumbles could be heard, seemingly to have a bad dream about something.

Slaine's affrighted and strained scream was distinctly audible throughout the chamber as he pulled the gun's trigger numerous times, aiming it at the slouched Martian in front of him, looking almost demised. Count Saazbaum.

Click.

Once Slaine heard that sound, he immediately knew the gun was out of its fuel―bullets.

Slaine had stopped screaming since seconds ago, but his heartbeat was still thumping like crazy, as if it was about to burst off from his chest. His breaths were strained and unstable, like when one had their asthma relapsing.

But just as Slaine was about to put down his gun, he saw the the Martian Count tapping his forehead with an underhanded smile carved from ear to ear. Slaine's breath hitched.

He knew what that gesture meant.

And so he did what he was told to do.

Raising his arms, he straightened them as he aimed the gun's mouth toward the other's forehead, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gun going off ripped through the blond's ears as if he was right next to a fireworks display, listening to it go off, with no protection. The echo of the ear-splitting bang! carried on for a good minute, before it began to disappear, slowly but surely.

There was a glimpse of incredulity on the Count's face right before Slaine pulled off the trigger. The cunning expression had been taken away, replaced by a look of disbelief―and that disbelief was quickly taken away by a single bullet.

Though it might just be Slaine's imagination.  
Sensing movement from the corner of his eyes, the son of the great Dr. Troyard whipped his head around to take a better look of it. He knew it already, though―it was that guy, driving himself to the limit, his hands reaching toward Princess Asseylum.

Even though he knew he was going to die real soon―even though it was useless.

"... Why the effort, Orange?" The blond muttered breathlessly.

Slaine's feet had made him stand right behind the brunette Terran subconsciously. He didn't even realize what happened. He heard a click, the sound of his gun reloading, and before he knew it, he found himself pointing his gun toward Orange's head.

"Don't, that is far enough," were the words that left the blond's pale lips. It was monotone and demanding. But the brunette was so persistent; he didn't stop himself from moving.

Slaine took a step forward, close enough until his gun's mouth touched the back of the brunette's head. "... Orange."

He swore he heard Orange stifled a laughter―or maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe it was just Slaine, slowly turning insane.

The said man turned his head, looking past his shoulder to make eye contact with the blond. A duplicitous smile was carved upon his countenance, as if Orange was making fun of him. Then the lips parted―

"Bat."

—A gun had been pointed by the other male, and Slaine's eyes were completely focused on the other's gun's mouth. The hole was like an abyss, and Slaine tried to not picture himself falling down to that abyss.  
And, out of an uncontrollable fear, Slaine pulled the trigger.

After the horrible event, Slaine immediately went back to his room. It felt so weird without having Cruhteo there waving his cane around and Saazbaum's face on the screen.

If Cruhteo was here, he would absolutely be hot under the collar, and would wreak his fury at the poor Slaine, whom would take the Martian's beatings acquiescently. Once he's in his room, Slaine's face would be full of black-and-blue marks, produced by the impact of his skin and the tip of Cruhteo's cane.

But this time, it was different.

There were neither Cruhteo or Saazbaum; only him. Only Slaine Troyard.

Once he arrived in his room, he immediately threw his body on his bed, not bothering to tuck himself in the blanket. He put a hand against his forehead, eyeing the ceiling blankly.

Something imperceptible had knocked the back of his mind, startling the Terran completely.

"Huh?"

His view was blurring, and his mind and body was going numb. His view was changing between blur and monochrome. It was going white and gray and black. He couldn't comprehend what was going on.

His head was aching, as if something invisible just stabbed through his brain. Shutting his eyes didn't help―it just made everything worse. Gritting his teeth, holding his head, digging his nails into his scalp―all of them did not help, and they only made things worse.

And then the pain stopped abruptly, followed by a sudden drowsiness.

Slaine's eyelids suddenly went heavy. His mind was going blank, and he could almost see nothing through his almost closed eyelids.

And right before his consciousness slipped away, he uttered some words.

"I wish I hadn't killed him ..."

He'd thought he was staring at the blank and gray ceiling. But no―it was not blank at all.  
It was all like an old movie. Pictures were slowly sliding upward, their borders were tainted, as if consumed by time, telling Slaine peculiar stories he thought he had seen before; telling peculiar stories he thought he had done before―but at the same time, he couldn't remember anything regarding the stories.

They were, as if, fragments. Dreams. He wasn't sure how or what to call those peculiar pictures. Stories?

Are those even real? Slaine thought, turquoise hues never left the moving pictures.

It was weird that he felt nothing when he saw Her Highness' head getting shot. It was as though—he was used to it. He knew he couldn't do anything about it, and he was used to it.

But why? Why was he used to it? It only happened once.

Once again, the back of his mind ached. It was that feeling again―déjà vu.

He wasn't able to grasp the situation he was in.

Slaine's breath hitched when he saw a scene of himself blowing a certain brunette's head up with a single bullet. The chain around his chest suffocated his heart, and it ached; it hurt.

Why, though?

Why didn't something like this happen when he perceived Her Highness' death?

And then, the same scene appeared. Blood was shown dripping down Orange's forehead, and he looked lifeless. The same goes for Her Highness. No sign of life coming from the two. And then, again. And again. And again. Projecting pictures of dead Asseylum and Orange. And occasionally a dead Count Saazbaum.

It was like a broken CD player, playing the same scene again, and again, and again, repeating itself until someone is bored of it.

This needs to stop.

 _This needs to stop._

 _This needs to stop._

 _ **This needs to stop.**_

"I wish I hadn't killed him ..."

Repugnance could be seen clearly in Slaine's turquoise orbs as the said man held the gun in his hands tightly―too tightly, even, that it made his hands tremble. His fingers had been pulling the trigger numerous times, aiming it at Count Saazbaum, whose life was almost gone.

Slaine's horrified scream was echoed throughout the room. It was strained, as if he had something inside his throat. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he screamed. Some of them even made it into his mouth―it was salty.

No matter how many times Slaine pulled the trigger, the Count was still alive, and none of the bullets had hit his head.

That was when―Click―Slaine ran out of bullets.

He could easily reload the gun, but his mind and soul were too broken to do it. He was broken. He was hopeless.

Slaine watched as a smirk grew itself upon the Count's countenance. It was such a taunting smirk that it sent shivers down to his spine. Count Saazbaum tapped his forehead twice, and Slaine immediately knew that he was telling him to do something.

... Count Saazbaum was telling Slaine to end it once and for all.

The movement in the corner of the blond's eyes interrupted them. It was a good reason to escape from the Count.

Without hesitation, Slaine whipped his head around to where the movement is. He quickly found that brunette Terran who piloted the orange Kataphrakt earlier, was crawling toward another body not quite far from him.  
Orange was reaching for Her Highness' lifeless body.

Don't, was the first thing that came to Slaine's mind. He watched as Orange used his whole remaining strength to crawl toward the Princess.

Don't.

Orange looked so desperate―he looked so different from what Slaine had imagined.  
The sound of Orange's limbs grinding against the brusque ground was echoing throughout the chamber. It was the only sound Slaine could hear beside the sound of his own breathing.

 _DON'T_.

Orange was close. He was very, very close.  
Slaine reloaded his gun.

"Don't." Slaine sounded so cold and monotone that he didn't even recognize his own voice.

Silence wrapped the two of them, as Orange stopped moving. Slaine kept his mouth shut, waiting for the other to response. But it didn't look like that the brunette was going to open his mouth soon. Slaine pushed the mouth of his gun against the back of the other's head.

"That is far enough," Slaine spoke monotonously. His voice sounded so foreign in his own ears. Slaine continued, "... Orange."

There was a pause, right before the Terran before him turned his head around. It may just be his imagination, but Slaine thought he heard Orange's stifled laugh. The smile he had on his face looked like as if he was making fun of Slaine―and it pissed him off.

"... Bat," the brunette spoke mischievously.  
As long as he doesn't do any harm, Slaine won't pull the trigger. But then, though Slaine almost believed that Orange won't do anything stupid, the blond found himself staring at the mouth of Orange's gun.

There was a loud bang, but Slaine didn't pull the trigger.

The Troyard's consciousness slipped away, and blackness welcomed him.

His body jolted up, and he could hear his breath hitching. Slaine felt his hand grasping onto something, and he looked down and around. He was clutching onto his bed sheet, and he was in his bedroom―much to his confusion.

Slaine's eyes traveled around his room, disbelief was seen on his face. He grasped and loosened his grip on his bed sheet numerous times, and his chest heaved as he breathed heavily.

"... Was that ... a dream ...?" Those words still left his mouth, despite knowing that nobody will answer.

The silence was painful―he could even hear his own heartbeat beating. _Thump, thump, thump_ ; his heartbeat was quicker than usual. It made sense, though, since Slaine had just woken up from a horrifying nightmare.

Sweats trickled down Slaine's temple, and for some reason, chills were sent down to his spine.

The sudden pain inside his head startled him. Slaine's turquoise eyes widened in shock as he gripped his head firmly until his nails literally dug themselves into his scalp. His body shook in fear and terror as pictures suddenly made their way into his mind.

 _What are these?! Memories―?! But I don't recall them at all―_

His head ached again, if a needle was being inserted into his head. Slaine held back his scream as he did not want to draw attention. He gritted his teeth and groaned, trying to suppress the pain inside his head. There were images Slaine had never seen before, but at the same time, feeling familiarity toward them. He was clueless about what was happening.

Then it abruptly stopped. Slaine had no clue what just happened, but it stopped.  
Slaine stayed silent for a few moment, confirming if it really ended or not―

 _Orange turned his head, looking past his shoulder to make eye contact with the blond. A duplicitous smile was carved upon his countenance, as if Orange was making fun of him. Then the lips parted―_

 _"Bat."_

 _A gun had been pointed by the other male, and Slaine's eyes were completely focused on the other's gun's mouth. The hole was like an abyss, and Slaine tried to not picture himself falling down to that abyss._

 _And, out of an uncontrollable fear, Slaine pulled the trigger._

A gasp escaped Slaine's mouth. Was that a memory?

"AAAAAGH ...!" The image caused a sudden pain in his head that Slaine couldn't suppress, and finally a scream escaped his lips. The pain was so agonizing that Slaine couldn't keep his head above water. His head throbbed like crazy that Slaine's screams kept on going until the pain disappeared, which was about three minutes after.

His chest heaved up and down as he breathed heavily. Slaine clutched into his chest―he had a hard time breathing. It was as if there was something heavy weighing his chest. Every time he breathed, his chest hurt so much.

Despite the fact that he was drenched in sweat, Slaine felt cold. The gelid air that surrounded the room was the cause of it.  
The pain had disappeared completely, but Slaine's mind was still thinking of those cryptic images. He had questions, but those question absolutely cannot be answered.

 _What was that?_

 _Why was it so sudden?_

 _Why do those images feel so familiar?_

 _Images from a dream?_

 _Memories?_

 _Why did he appear, anyway?_

Was that déjà vu? He had heard something such as déjà vu. It was basically a feeling of experiencing the same thing numerous times.

But was it actually déjà vu? Slaine himself wasn't sure.

Those questions whirled around inside his head like a loop, but no matter how hard he tried, no answer came up.

Slaine drew a deep breath as he laid himself back on the bed. The coolness of the bed calmed himself down for some reason. The weight inside his chest had disappeared, and in some way, everything felt a lot lighter.

Though the questions were still in his head, Slaine could still sleep, though not as peaceful as usual.

 _I wish I hadn't killed him._

Slaine Troyard's countenance was filled with repugnance and abhorrence as he pierced the Martian Count in front of him with an odious glare. Everything felt heavy―that included his chest. Every breath he took felt like hell. Despite the hatefulness he felt, tears were visible on his cheek, trickling down until they fell on the ground.

There was a gun in Slaine's tight grip, aimed at the Martian Count before him. The Count that took care of Slaine when he was a child. The Count his father saved. The Count he respected so much. The Count that sent a bullet through Her Highness' head.

Hatred was swelling up inside Slaine as if boiling, and that hatred was what made Slaine pulled the trigger. And again. And again. He didn't care one bit about who was the man slumped against the wall before him. He didn't care if they had some sort of consanguinity. He didn't care if he was more superior than him. Slaine still pulled the trigger.

Those bullets flew out crazily as the Troyard's strained scream echoed throughout the chamber.

 _Bang, bang, bang,_ along with Slaine's screams.

The bullets that Slaine shot could not be counted using fingers only, but none of them hit Count Saazbaum.

It was finally time that Slaine ran out of bullets. Though he could easily reload it, he found himself frozen in place. Slaine's shoulders dropped, and he put down his arms. His cries stopped―it was reduced to soft whimpers. Tears were still pouring down. He had no intention to hide them.

Count Saazbaum tapped his fist against his forehead lightly, telling Slaine to do something. There was a somewhat sinister grin growing across the Count's features―as if saying, "do it if you dare."

Slaine's breath hitched. The weight inside his chest just kept on getting heavier and heavier by the second.

Whimpering silently, Slaine tried to raise his arms again, but he just couldn't make him to do it. Disappointed in himself, Slaine put down his arms, looking down at the ground.  
If it wasn't for the movement he caught from the corner of his eyes, Slaine would've dropped his gun to the floor. Ignoring the Martian that was laying almost lifelessly in front of him, Slaine turned his head.

It was Orange. He was crawling desperately toward something. Slaine's eyes shifted to where the brunette was heading to, and felt something clenching around his heart. He was heading toward the Princess.

But for what purpose? He knew Orange had protected the Princess when Slaine was not there beside her, and he had to thank him for that. But now that he was here, near her―her dead body, nonetheless―Orange had no purpose to go to the Princess' side.

Orange looked so desperate. There was something in his eyes that Slaine recognize, but just couldn't recall of what was that emotion called. Blood was trailing down the brunette's head, but he seemed to be ignoring the pain completely, and focusing on crawling toward the lifeless body of Her Highness.

What did this Terran want? Slaine had no clue. But for some reason, his action pissed the blond off. And with that, he scooted toward the other male with a gun in his hand.

He reloaded it, and put the mouth of it against the back of the other's head.

"Don't, that is far enough." Slaine's voice sounded so hollow and foreign to his ears that he himself almost did not recognize his own voice. Slaine's expression was serious―stoic. The blond's lips opened, and he uttered, "... Orange."

It seemed that Orange heard him, since he stopped crawling. The said man turned his head and shot Slaine a look, a mischiveous smile was carved upon his countenance. He spoke somewhat slyly, "Bat."

Slaine kept his eyes locked on Orange's wine-colored orbs, but the latter turned his gaze away. He then did something, which Slaine couldn't see. He just stared at his back, wondering.

Something imperceptible hit the back of his mind, then a slight pain that made the blond wince. There it is again. Déjà vu.

Orange turned around and suddenly grasped Slaine's shoulders and spun him around as he pushed him to the ground. Slaine, who did not see this coming, only let out a gasp, startled.

Slaine's chin hit the hard ground, and he groaned at the impact in pain.

As he did that, Orange had taken Slaine's gun out of his grip, throwing it away from them as far as possible. His right arm had been pinned against the ground firmly by Orange, and his left arm was held down against his back, so firmly that Orange almost broke his bone. Almost.

"God―!" Slaine cursed breathlessly in pain. The pain was still there, and it didn't feel like it was going to cease soon. He looked past his shoulder, eyes sharp. "The hell, Orange?!"

The grip tightened, and Slaine groaned.

"This is for your sake, Bat," Orange spoke too calmly. Can't he read the situation right now? Slaine thought.

"Stop speaking nonsense, Orange!" Slaine spat, literally spat. Bits of his spin fell on the concrete below him.

"I am not speaking nonsense. It's a fact," Orange said, again, too calmly. It was pissing Slaine off. But he guessed it was better than being reckless.

"I have no idea what are you talking about." Slaine stared at him, and Orange stared at him, too. He noticed that in the dark, Orange's eyes looked like wine. Red wine. It looked drinkable. Now that he thought about it, that sentence sounded very wrong.

"This is a loop," Orange uttered, surprising the blond. He sounded so calm, as if he says those words in his everyday life.

"... What?" Slaine whispered in disbelief, literally shocked by the brunette. He didn't know whether to believe him or not―he sounded so monotone, he couldn't tell lies and truths apart.

"This is a loop, Bat," Orange repeated, the grip on his arm didn't relax. "You're in a loop. We're in a loop. Seylum-san, me, you, and that Martian over there."

"You're speaking nonsense." But now that he thought about it, that thing he felt earlier—it made sense with what Orange said just now. Slaine puckered his lips.

"Haven't you feel something like déjà vu?" Orange started again. "As if you've done the exact same thing you are currently doing with yourself?"

Slaine's head ached. There is it again ...  
The brunette seemed to notice. "That. That feeling you're currently having. That is déjà vu."

Slaine refused to believe in him. Even though what Orange said had been making so much sense. The Troyard hissed at him, "Don't expect for me to believe in you!"

Orange's countenance remained expressionless. He didn't even flinch. Though the grip on his left arm tightened, and Slaine's strained scream filled the whole chamber. There was a trail of drool down his lips. But his bone didn't break.

"I don't care if you don't," Orange spoke. "But it's the truth. And if you refuse to believe in me, you will, no doubt, kill me after this, and my face will haunt you for the rest of your life."

Slaine couldn't believe he just said that. That sentence was full nonsense, he can't believe Orange just said that. "You don't know my future, Orange!" Slaine exclaimed in fury―his face was red with it.

Orange did not say anything again afterward. He looked like as if he was thinking about something―calculating something. Then, after a few minutes or so, he opened his mouth once again, "Bat."

"What?"

Orange heaved a deep breath. "This loop started when you wished you hadn't killed me," he started, and there was something in his voice that told Slaine that he was telling the truth. Slaine gave him a look that said, go on, and so Orange did.

"You regretted it. You created this loop. Until you don't feel regret anymore, this loop will keep going again. And again, and again, and again," the brunette said, his voice echoing around the chamber.

"Regret?" Slaine asked.

"Regret of killing me. After you kill me, you will regret it, and wished you hadn't killed me, and you won't stop thinking about my death for the rest of your life."

Slaine chuckled sarcastically. "That's ridiculous."

"It's the truth. What triggered the loop is your wish―your wish that you hadn't killed me."

The Troyard stared at him, studied his countenance, trying to search for something that tells him that Orange is lying. But his attempt was in vain―he found nothing. He was unreadable―Slaine couldn't even tell if he is lying or telling the truth.

"... Then I can just not kill you, right?"

"No," Orange replied immediately, right after Slaine uttered those words of his.

Slaine arched an eyebrow. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Orange shook his head. "I am fated to die here. I can't avoid my death."

Something inside Slaine's stomach fell, and Slaine's eyes widened. "Huh?! Why?! There must be a way I can keep you from being dead!"

Orange did not flinch. "No. There is not. In the last loop, I killed you," he whispered for some reason. "And then, I was killed by that Martian over there."

Slaine's eyes widened. He eyed the said Martian. The latter's eyes were closed, but Slaine knew he was quietly listening to their conversation. He quickly glanced away. "Count Saazbaum ...?"

Orange gave him a slight nod without saying anything. He didn't look like he was going to say anymore further, and so Slaine spoke, whispering harshly, "If I kill Count Saazbaum, then, you won't be dead right?" If he had to choose between Orange and Count Saazbaum before the latter killed Her Highness, he would've chosen the latter. But this time, it was different. Her Highness was killed. By Count Saazbaum.

Again, the answer was a shake of the brunette's head, his hair swayed as he did so. "In another loop, another Martian soldier came here and killed me at the same time as you kill that Count."

"Then―"

Orange cut him again. "No, a pillar will fall on top of me and crush me to death."

Once again, hopelessness and despair filled the son of Dr. Troyard's chest. He had no idea what to do. His head was filled with prospects and notions and ideas, but he was too scared to spill the beans.

He wanted to stop the loop. To stop it, he needed to not feel regret―but that was easier said than done. His gaze wandered to the body of the blond haired noble behind one of the pillar.

"... Bat ..."

Orange's voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked, and shifted his gaze to the brunette. "What about Her Highness? Is she fated to die?" Slaine asked wearily.

For the first time, Orange looked taken aback. He shifted his gaze to the female, too, and then back at Slaine. He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."  
Slaine bit his lips. So, Orange didn't know. "... then ... Then, I'll save you both. No matter what."

That statement seemed to surprise the brunette. The grip on Slaine's arm tightened, but Slaine didn't groan or wince. His eyes were burning with persistence, and he shot his persistent gaze to the other.

A bead of sweat trickled down Orange's temple. "But both myself and Seylum-san are fated to die here."

"Then I'm going to defy that fate," Slaine said, determined.

Orange looked taken aback once again. He seemed loss for words. Then, he seemed to give up, as he exhaled deeply and shook his head. "If that's what you want, then, I won't say anything."

A small smirk was curved upon Slaine's countenance, and Orange replied him with a small, but still visible smile.

The brunette slowly unclenched his grasp off Slaine's arms as he scooted off him, standing on his two feet beside Slaine. Then he did the same―standing up on his two feet, only a few centimeter away from the other Terran.

The blond scrutinized Orange's countenance. There was blood oozing down from his forehead, and there was a horrible-looking bruise near his left eye. He wondered if that would ruin his eye. The stoic look never left his face, and Slaine wondered how does he maintain it. Slaine could never put on an iron mask, no matter how hard he'd try.

Orange was amazing.

Slaine's turquoise orbs caught movement in front of him. Orange had swung his hand toward him, throwing him something. The Troyard barely caught it, but he did. The thing was heavy, and Slaine stared at it. It was a gun. He trailed his finger along the smooth, smooth iron as he flipped it around over and over again, staring at it, confusion was carved upon his countenance.

"Let's shoot each other," Orange said, surprising the blond. But Slaine didn't question him. He didn't even bother to choose whether should he say yes or no. He just took his gun from his pocket, and threw it to Orange, which he caught it swiftly.

A small, amused chuckle left Slaine's lips as he checked the gun in his hand for bullets. There was one left.

"Make your shot count," Orange said. Maybe it was his imagination, but Slaine heard something he had never heard before in Orange's tone just now. Amusement, maybe.

"Sure," replied Slaine, deliberately using an amused tone. "Easy." Then, Slaine raised his arm and aimed the gun at the Terran standing just a few meters away from him.

He placed his forefinger at the trigger. Slaine studied the other's features as he did the same thing―raising his arm and straightened it, aiming it at Slaine's head.

Orange looked as calm as ever. The stoic and straight expression of his never came off his face. Slaine wondered if he was like this since the time he cried his first tear. He wondered if he did ever cry. His red wine eyes remained blank and unreadable as always.

Slaine's gaze shifted from Orange's face to the mouth of the gun he was holding. It'd stared at him back, and it was like Slaine was being pulled to a dark and bottomless abyss. He had to look away.

"Bat," Orange called out for him, and he perked up. "What's your name?"

Slaine was taken aback for a moment, but he answered the question without hesitation, "Slaine Troyard."

He nodded at Orange. "Your name, Orange?"

"Inaho. Kaizuka Inaho."

"Inaho," Slaine repeated, trying to remember the name in his head, though it would be useless. He was going to die after all. The blond sharpened his eyes. "A pleasure to meet you."

"You too, Slaine-san," Orange―Kaizuka Inaho replied casually, rolling his tongue at the _r_ since he wasn't able to pronounce the name clearly. Then they went silence. No sound remained, only eye contacts. Slaine pierced the other with his turquoise orbs, and Inaho shot him his signature gaze―stoic and flat, unreadable. Slaine noticed that their breath synchronized.

"See you in the next loop," Slaine said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Inaho said.

"Then," the blond started again, "in the count of three."

Inaho nodded.

"One."

Slaine was ready to pull the trigger. The grip on the gun tightened.

"Your gun is nice."

"Oh, shut up."

Slaine took a deep breath, and couldn't help but to crack a crooked grin upon his features. He arranged a single sentence inside his head.

"Two."

 _I wish I hadn't killed him._

"Three."


End file.
